


Bare

by FlareWarrior



Series: Kinktober 2017 [8]
Category: Phantom Brave
Genre: I accidentally wrote porn for a ship I had a millennia ago, I feel like I regressed to age 16, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, so of course I made it about the names, someone protect Faded, their names are so stupid, what is this, who are these people, why am I the only poor bastard in so many ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlareWarrior/pseuds/FlareWarrior
Summary: Persimmon is still getting used to human hands, but this, this is worth the change.





	Bare

" _Persimmon!_ " His name is a wail on Walnut's lips, desperate and broken on the third time Persimmon tightens his fist and stills to keep him from coming.

Persimmon is still getting used to human hands, but this, this is worth the change. Walnut is at last undone, his defenses sheared away. Persimmon settles firmly against Walnut's back, pinning him to the bed and mouthing along his neck. Walnut's flaxen hair is a ruined mess, clinging to his skin and spilling onto the pillow around his head, a disheveled halo. Walnut's body heaves under him, panting and gasping, what he can see of his face wet and red. He's long since torn the sheets off the corners of the mattress, leaving it bunched and damp against their skin.

Walnut's eyes slit open to glower at him, but it's a watery glower.

" _Please_ ," Walnut mumbles, muscles flexing, entrance fluttering around Persimmon's erection.

"Not yet. I like you like this."

Walnut groans, frustrated. Persimmon shifts to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth, feels him shiver when it moves his cock deeper.

"It's is the only time I believe a word you say." To emphasize his point, Persimmon slides his hand down along Walnut's chest, lets his palm settle against the mark of the Brave. Walnut whines, but he doesn't tense or pull away. It's a rare concession. Persimmon rocks his hips gently, going for round four.

Walnut writhes under him, neglected cock pressed to the mattress, the loose sheets useless as he seeks friction. Persimmon keeps the pace slow and torturous, but even that brings Walnut close, has him gasping after almost no time at all.

"Persimmon," Walnut sobs. He likes that better than the pleading, actually. Likes the sound of his name in Walnut's wrecked voice. Persimmon nuzzles his chin, uses the hand still pressed to Walnut's chest to draw them tighter together, and shifts so he's grinding over Walnut's prostate.

Walnut reacts like he's been electrocuted, crying out and arching back into his thrusts, trembling on incoherent, pleading sounds. Persimmon sighs as the mark of the brave heats under his palm. He slides his free hand between Walnut’s body and the mattress, seeking out his heavy cock while Walnut shudders in his arms. He loosely encircles Walnut's leaking cock in his fingers, but doesn't do any more.

"Tell me something I don't know," he murmurs.

"Fu-haah," Walnut's attempted curse shatters on a desperate moan, and he loses the last shred of his attitude with the sound. "What could I-?"

"The most precious things," Persimmon answers. Someday he's going to do this with Walnut on his back, fold him up and kiss him properly as he comes apart. That will be a long time coming. For now, he settles for pressing his lips to Walnut's temple, lingering and soft. "Tell me your real name."

Walnut's already ruined in his hands, already breathing in ragged, shaky breaths, already trembling and taut as a bowstring in his arms. Somehow, he still manages to convey what the words do to him, brushing tender fingers over his unprotected, scarred core. When he speaks at last his voice is oddly smooth, oddly even, and barely audible.

"Faded."

Persimmon sighs into his hair, eyes sliding shut for a moment on the admission. He’s made a point not to pry into Walnut's business, made a point not to pull the obvious threads because those threads seemed to be the only things holding him together.

But the name suits him.

Persimmon tightens his fist and strokes up Walnut's shaft, drawing another needy string of cries from his lips.

"Alright," he whispers, his own voice wrecked. "Come for me, Faded."

His hand burns with the fire of the Brave as Walnut screams his release.


End file.
